


Bewitched

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Related, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hate to Love, Hunter Dean, Kinda, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Witch Curses, Witch Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: After getting himself cursed, Dean needs the help of a witch or he will die. He fucking hates witches. Falling in love with one? So not the plan.





	Bewitched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doilycoffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/gifts).



> This is written as a gift for one of the best people ever. Happy birthday Eve, you've been nothing but kind to me since the start, I'm so lucky to call you a friend. I love you to hell and back. 
> 
> Big thank you and a hug for the wonderful [Soy-em](https://soy-em.tumblr.com) for the beta.

 

He's been walking for hours. Deep into the forest where tall trees obscure the sky and light barely penetrates the thick leaves. He feels like he stepped into an old book of fairytales, the forest around him green and lush. Alive.

Beams of sunlight fall from the wooden arch of branches, rivaling the sparkling chandeliers. The sound of a nearby stream fills the air, as does the rich scent of crushed fallen leaves, an orchestra of birdsongs and the breeze rustling through the forest is playing in tandem with the gentle murmur of the river.   

Dean has no time to fully appreciate the wonder around him. The  _ magical _ nature of the place. Because  _ that's _ the fucking problem.

His toe hits something and he curses, scowling down at the lifted root that he tripped over. He's getting closer to the water source and he ignores the minor throbbing in his foot in favour of walking further in the direction of the stream. The nearer he gets, the louder the sound grows, 'till it's a magnificent rush that fills his ears and astounds him.

Waterfall. 

Like the place is a picture right out of a children book, the water cascades down steps of rocks that looks almost artificial. But nothing made by humans can hold a candle to the scene, to the way light breaks onto the water drops and forms a permanent rainbow. The rocks are covered with moss that's almost too green, shining from the wetness.  Just down from where the waterfall, a small cottage is tucked into a huge tree. The tree is bent down over the cottage, protectively covering its roof. The wooden door is partially hidden by the branches and Dean can't resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Fucking witches. 

He has to admit though, when it comes to nailing the atmosphere, this witch takes the prize. He scans the area before he makes his way to the house, one curse is more than he can handle at once.

As if on cue, the skin covered in the newly gained marks burns, and he winces, rubbing at his chest and forearms in a vain attempt to distract himself. He knows the pain is coming from the inside. And according to the witch that cursed him, it will only get worse. 

_ Fucking _ witches. 

The bitch was too damn smug about it, too. Having laid one on the infamous Dean Winchester himself, but she wasn't counting on him pulling out a trick of his own. Even though he couldn't counter her curse he'd managed to chant the binding spell that his dad had taught him years ago. And as long as his spell is still active, the witch wouldn't be able to be far away from him, or hers will be broken. Trapping the witch in town didn't help him much, as he spent two precious days trying -and failing- to find her.

He pulls his gun out, moves toward the house, circling around it to make sure he won't be caught off guard before he makes his way to one of the windows. He peers inside, taking in the contents of the house and finding no one. Inhaling, he pushes the door open, and steps inside. Careful not to make a sound.

The ceiling is high but the space is small. Everything is made of redwood, giving an ancient appearance to the place. There's three doors, one far to the back, which he assumes leads to the back garden he saw earlier, and the other two must open to a bathroom and a bedroom. The far corner serves as a kitchen, a small fireplace and a stove. The rest of the walls are completely covered with bookshelves, thick, well used books filling them. In the center, a fairly large table is surrounded by six chairs, its surface an absolute mess; bowls and pots and variable herbs taking up the almost all its face. 

Dean hears shuffling, and his eyes flick to the backdoor. The handle is turning and he moves fast, plastering his back to the wall so the door will hide him when it's opened. A squeak then two steps, and Dean can make out the back of a tall man. The man is carrying something with both hands and he uses his foot to close the door without looking back. It's a chance Dean won't lose. 

With one fluid move he has one of the guy's hands behind his back, and the gun on his temple. The basket falls to the ground, its content scattering around.  The guy grunts in an attempt to dislocate Dean's hold but Dean's faster. He kicks the back of the guy's knee and he crumbles down, Dean following so his knee is digging into the small of the man's back, effectively pinning him in place.

''Stop wiggling or I'll shoot you,'' The man freezes under him, a shudder going through his body. Dean jams his knee a bit harder where it's pressed before he moves it, at the same time he cuffs the man's wrist. He locks the other cuff into his own wrist and chants a few words.

The chain between the two cuffs disappears, leaving only a bracelet of metal behind and the man curses. Dean grins.

''Got you.''

He lets the man get up, he cannot harm him now. 

''I didn't do anything!'' The man exclaims the moment he's facing Dean. And Dean's almost knocked out by how fucking  _ breathtaking _ the witch is. 

Angry lines on his forehead, and strong jaw set tight. Multicolored eyes flaring with rage. He's got three inches on Dean, but he's not as broad in the shoulders, his waist a delicate line cut down into prominent hips. He blinks twice as he realizes the guy is talking, and damn; his wide, inviting mouth is another distraction Dean wasn't counting on.

''Are you insane?'' The guy shouts, arms high in the air signaling his frustration. Dumbly, Dean says:

''What's your name?'' 

The guy stutters to a halt and his face is almost comical with surprise. ''I...Sam.''

The name brings Dean back to the moment, he's not here to chat or get to know the witch in front of him, he's here because he got his ass cursed.

''Well, Sammy. I'm Dean Winchester.'' He watches with a satisfied expression as Sam's face pales at the name. A muscle on his jaw jerks and he swallows. Good to know his reputation precedes him.  ''I can say the pleasure is all mine since you don't seem pleased to meet me.'' He forces himself not to laugh at the bitch face Sam is giving him and lifts his hand up; showing the metal around his wrist.

''You know what this is.'' It's not a question but Sam nods. 

''A binding spell.'' He hisses at Dean.

''Don't look so offended, you witches love spells.'' Dean hates spells but as his dad used to say: If _ you're in a dirty fight you have to be the dirtiest to win _ . Dean found early on, that he had an inclination to learn binding spells, so he studied those, it's the only kind of magic he can confidently use.  As long as the band is around their wrists, Sam won't be able to hurt him, or run away. He won't be able to use magic either. 

''This will affect you, too.'' Sam tells him, but the look on his face says he expects Dean already knows. 

So he'll get hurt if Sam does, no big deal. 

''I'm the only one who can hurt you, and vice versa. But even if you did hurt me, you cannot run away.''  Sam's eyes dart around the room, calculating. His shoulders slump and he sighs, features turning weary. 

''What do you want?'' 

''What makes you think I want something?'' Dean does, but it’s annoying how sure Sam sounds.

''You wouldn't have gone through the trouble,'' he lifts his wrist to indicate the band ''so just get to it.'' He bends down and take the basket he dropped earlier, refilling it with the herbs and flowers. Dean watches him, the elegant way he carries himself, the tantalizing swell of his ass and he clears his throat. Sam keeps going around, places the basket on the table and walks to the cupboard. He retrieves a knife and starts dicing the herbs, humming like Dean isn't there.

Dean shakes his head, walks to stand beside Sam. ''What are you doing?'' 

''Supper,'' Is the simple answer.

''I got cursed.'' Dean blurts out, for some reason the look Sam gives him over his shoulder makes him blush with embarrassment. At Sam's raised eyebrow he gets his wits and unbuttons his shirt. Sam's eyes widen as more of Dean's skin is displayed, following the dark pattern drawn there. 

Dean lets the shirt fall to the ground as Sam steps closer, finger tracing the black, snake like lines around his chest and torso. Sam continues his inspection, eyes sliding down Dean's arms and forearms. He furrows his brows, fingers following his gaze. 

''You got one nasty spell there,'' Sam informs him, voice apologetic like he's genuinely upset Dean's in this predicament. Dean only nods, because really, what's he's supposed to say?

''When did you get it?'' 

''Two days ago,'' 

Sam looks thoughtful, he puckers his lips and scratches his scalp, eyes not leaving Dean's chest. Frankly, it's adorable, and a nasty witch shouldn't be able to look like this. 

''I can't lift it. I need the blood of the witch who cast it. Given willingly.'' He says the last two words in a whisper as if afraid of Dean's reaction. And only that stops Dean from lashing out. But the truth remains that there's no way in hell that bitch is giving her blood willingly. 

''So there you have it, leave me alone now.'' Sam points to the door, and Dean lifts a brow at him.

Sighing, Sam shakes his head and goes back to cooking. Dean takes a seat on one of the chairs around the table, and catches Sam throwing him a glance. His grip on the knife tightens and he's cutting the vegetables like he has a personal grudge against them. A while passes with Sam moving around and Dean can feel the waves of rage emitting from him, getting stronger by the moment.

''I can't help you!'' Sam shouts, stirring the pot way harder than he should.

''Help me track her down. I bound her. She can't leave until I die, but she obscured her presence and the town is not exactly small.'' 

Sam huffs ''No.'' 

''Excuse me?'' 

Sam fetches two bowls and pours soup into them as he grumbles ''You heard me. You barge into my home, point a gun to my head and cast a binding spell on me. Why do you think I would help you?'' He opens the cupboard and gets some bread. 

He knows why so Dean doesn't answer, there's no way Sam doesn't recognize the spell Dean used on him. Sam will die too, if Dean does.

The click of the bowl being dropped in front of him makes Dean flinch, he blinks at the soup and send a questioning gaze in Sam's direction. 

''You're probably hungry,'' Sam says, and he looks kinda sheepish. Dean has no idea what to make of the gesture. He scowls at the food, and Sam starts to babble:

''I mean, it takes over four hours to drive out here and at least two to find the house. Your last meal was at least six hours before and you walked the whole way here an-''

Dean bursts into an uncontrollable laugh, Sam could be the most adorable witch ever. 

''Okay,'' He wheezes, shoulders still shaking in mirth ''I'll eat. Thanks.''

Sam is blushing now, head ducked so his bangs fall over his eyes, and that  _ is _ the most adorable thing ever. 

They eat in silence, and if Dean keeps glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye then no one has to know. 

*****************************

''I can't break it, I already told you.'' Sam's voice doesn't have the edge of anger it had in the beginning, he sounds more resigned than anything else. 

''Just help me find her. I can get her blood. Trust me,'' He wiggles his eyebrows, Sam doesn't look amused. 

''What part of ''willingly'' you don't understand?''

'' Well, Sammy-''

''-It's Sam.''

''As I was saying _ , Sammy _ . ''Willingly'' is a loose term.'' To drive his point home, he pulls his gun out and levels it with Sam's head ''For example, you'll be  _ willing _ to help if it's your life on the line,'' He's bluffing, for some reason the idea of killing the gentle witch who offered him food doesn't sit well with him, but Sam doesn't know that so, here they are.

''You're horrible!'' 

''Whatever works, Sammy.''

''Stop calling me that!'' 

''Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.''

''Oh my God, I hate you!'' 

''It's mutual,'' He's not lying, Sam gets on his nerves like nothing else, already under his skin and making him short tempered. The desire to be childish and selfish is mounting with every bitch face Sam throws his way, and there are a lot of those coming. 

Sam rubs at his face with both his hands, sighing every two seconds like it's an Olympic event he's running for its medal. Then he scowls at Dean and nods.

''Okay. We need to get some stuff. I'm casting a tracking spell.''

''I'll have to be the one doing it.'' 

Dean hasn't thought it possible but Sam's scowl deepens, there's genuine anger shining in his eyes now. They look like molten gold, fire raging in them, and threatening as it is, Dean wants to burn. 

Sam tilts his face, eyes closed and mouth set into a thin line. His chest flares, and he releases the breath slowly. It serves nothing but to arouse Dean, which he's sure is not what Sam's aiming for.

''I know you hunters think you can do everything,'' Sam seethes, tone clipped ''But this spell is complicated, and you'll most likely ruin it,''

''Well, Tough. I don't trust you.'' Dean lowers his tone into a menacing growl ''You'll kill me the second I break the cuffs, and we both know it. So save it.'' 

Sam seems to deflate, eyes going moist and sad. He stares at Dean, imploring him to be reasonable, and the puppy look nearly does him in. 

''No means no, Sam.'' 

''Fine,'' Sam concedes ''But I won't be held responsible if you screw it up,'' He points his finger at Dean then turns around, and Dean's momentarily mesmerized by the way Sam's hair whirls a second slower, thick waves falling down one after the other. It looks like a fucking shampoo commercial, and it's absolutely ridiculous, but Dean wants nothing more than to thread his fingers through it and find out if it's as soft as it appears. 

Sam packs some sandwiches and bottles of water into a small, old bag. He nods at Dean to follow and Dean does. They leave from the back door, and Sam leads the way. 

For almost two hours, their walk is continued in silence. The dark starts to settle in over them, it's not sunset yet, but the forest is too thick and it's dark before the sun fully sets. Dean has never been one for suffocating quiet, it gets under his skin faster than anything. Always feels like something is building up, and the anticipation in these times is the worst. 

''How long till we're there? Where is there anyway?'' 

''We're looking for a mushroom that I need for the spell, it grows somewhere here.''  

''Seriously? A fucking mushroom?'' 

Less than a split second, Sam is in his space, face so close his features are blurred. Dean's focus is taken up by brilliant hazels, and Sam is saying something but Dean can't hear. Sam has a beauty mark on his cheek, right beside his nose, and another one on his chin, and Dean is just now seeing them. 

Sam's hands are on his chest and Dean's back collides with a tree. Sam's screaming, but Dean's ears are filled with the rush of his blood , and his out of rhythm heartbeat. Sam is so fucking beautiful Dean can't breathe, and maybe it's a spell but he know it's impossible. But if it isn't a spell, then it's just him. 

''What is wrong with you!'' Sam's hands are fisted in his collar, he keeps getting closer like he has no idea what he's doing to Dean and it makes the blood in his veins boil. How fucking dare he?

He flips them around and pins Sam against the tree, shoving his leg between Sam's. Sam yelps, his hands clutching at the sides of Dean's shirt, an attempt to stay up. His eyes are wide, he's staring at Dean, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. 

That's so damn it.

Dean crushes himself into Sam, pressing him further back onto the trunk, and Sam makes a small, surprised noise in the back of his throat, driving Dean crazier than he already is. Forcing Sam's legs apart, Dean steps between them, and Sam lifts one up. Hooking it around Dean's knee and putting his weight behind it.

They lose their footing and Dean grunts as his back hits the ground, Sam's body over his, his breaths warm on Dean's neck. He tries to get up but Dean circles his waist with both arms and flips them over, and Sam's attempt to use the momentum to swing Dean away is lost when Dean pins both of his thighs with his full weight. 

Too close, Sam's snarling at him, pushing against his chest, he smells like spice and something soft, a flower maybe. Dean slants their mouths together. It's just for a second and then he pulls back, the surprise he feels is mirrored on Sam's face. Sam blinks up at him, then his hand fists in the front of Dean's shirt and he yanks him Down, mashing their lips again in an intense kiss.

Teeth clicking and tongues swirling around each other, Dean's hard faster than he's ever been. He thrusts his cock against Sam's, relishing the moan Sam lets out. It's dizzying, the way Sam is moving under him, hips lifting to rub on Dean, long legs bent at the knees to give him leverage. Sam's hands are scalding on his skin where Sam shoved them under his shirt, and he wants nothing but to strip them both bare and mark Sam's tanned skin up with teeth and tongue. 

He can't bring himself to stop making out and rutting against Sam though, so he doesn't try. They can barely breathe and they still won't break the kiss. Their movements are growing frantic, and Dean thrusts down harder, his teeth sinking into Sam's neck as his orgasm hits him. Sam groans and follows behind, Dean can feel the hotness of Sam's release seeping through his jeans. They pant against each other's mouths, Dean captures Sam's lips in another brutal kiss. By the time he can breathe normally again, he's half convinced it's a spell, because the lust going through his veins is too strong to be real. It's like he hasn't just come. 

He gets off of Sam and helps him up, Sam accepts his hand without a fuss. Both of them avoiding eye contact. It's the most awkward Dean's felt since his dad caught him having sex on the couch. They start walking again and Dean winces at the disgusting feeling of cold come in his pants. Another thing that hasn't happened to him since he was seventeen. He really is cursed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Sam looking at him, but when he turns to fully face him Sam blushes to the tips of his ears and snaps his head away. It makes something clinch in Dean's chest, that the man who was grinding and moaning under him less than ten minutes ago can act this bashful. Sam's hair falls forward, hides him from Dean's stare and before Dean realizes it, he's tucking it back behind Sam's ear. 

The lovely shade of red that was tainting Sam's cheeks darkens, and Dean throws a grin at him. Sam huffs but there's a ghost of a smile on his face and Dean's heart is stuttering again. 

Just like that, Dean is okay with the silence around them, with the wet feeling between his legs, and with the fucking mushroom they're looking for.

''But seriously. Mushrooms?'' 

Sam groans, throws his hands up in the air then marches away from Dean. Dean can't help but laugh. 

*********************************

It's been two days since their little tryst in the forest, and they both choose to ignore it even though it starts a truce between them. Spending their time preparing the things needed for the tracking spell. Dean's provided with a blanket and a pillow and he sleeps on the kitchen floor for two nights in a row. He might've imagined Sam pulling the cover more snugly over him one night, but that's not a thing a witch would do. Even with how different Sam's been acting. 

He bickers with Dean the whole time, whines about the most idiotic things, corrects Dean on almost everything and he makes the most delicious food ever. Dean finds himself comfortable in Sam's company, and he's never been with any other person, especially this fast.

Sam insists on measuring everything for the spell himself, bitching about every detail. He makes a big fuss over Dean's pronunciation of Latin, mocking him and going as far as doing impressions. Dean ignores him and tries the verse again, Sam bursts into laughter. 

''You just have an inclination for dirty talk.'' Sam's clutching at his sides, shoulders shaking. He smiles at Dean, and Dean's heart slams against his ribs.

''Dimples,'' He breathes. Just now noticing the indentation in Sam's cheeks. Sam cocks his head to the side, ends of his locks sliding over his shoulder. It just isn't fair how effortlessly gorgeous he is. 

''Hmm?''

Dean moves closer, cupping Sam's cheek; pressing his thumb to where the dimple would be if Sam was still smiling.

''You have dimples.'' He repeats. Sam's skin goes hot under his palm, that charming blush making a reappearance. 

There's barely air between them, Dean leans in slowly, eyes darting over Sam's to gauge his reaction. Sam's lids drop, his lips parting and he tilts his head further down. It's all the invitation Dean needs, so he attaches his mouth to Sam's, kissing him slow and gentle. Sam makes an impatient sound and deepens the kiss, tongue coming out to lick over Dean's bottom lip. 

It wipes his mind clean, sensible thoughts lost with each flick of Sam's tongue, every breathy whimper he makes. Dean is falling under, skin tingling wherever they touch and toes curling. The way they come together so easily is terrifying, Dean is sure it should be harder than this to lose himself in someone, and while his brain is all about being distraught, his heart has other plans. It falls down at Sam's feet, and as if Sam hears the drop he pulls back and stares at Dean.

Strong arms wrap themselves around Dean's neck, and Sam draws closer, kissing a trail down Dean's cheek, his lips catching on the stubble on his jaw. Dean shivers, the hold around his neck weakens him. Sam is bound to him, he can't hurt Dean, can't kill him, but Dean's mind is reeling from how easy it would be for Sam to hold harder and choke him, or snap his neck. 

He turns his face and claims Sam's mouth an angry kiss, fingers gripping Sam's wrists so he can reposition Sam's arms. He places them around his waist, and Sam doesn't hesitate, pulls him tighter and kisses him back. Dean buries his hands in Sam's hair, angles his face so he can lick into his mouth. 

The air is wearing thin, and his head is all fuzzy. Sam's knees buckle, and they fall down. Sam hits the ground but he's laughing, and Dean is right there with him.

''That good, huh?'' Dean is joking of course, but Sam gives him an awed look and a nod, Dean's renegade heart gallops. 

He kisses Sam again. Sam bucks up, letting Dean feel his hard length, shameless moans and half broken words falling out of his mouth. 

Dean pulls back, Sam following him half the way up, craning his neck to try and get their mouths together again. He has an unsure, wide-eyed expression that kills Dean, so he plants a peck on those pouty lips and smiles when Sam clings to his shirt. 

''Just, maybe we could move to the bed?'' 

Sam stares at him then nods, accepting Dean's offered hand to help him up. It's silly and girly as fuck, but Dean twines their fingers, grinning when Sam moves closer to him.

They're not in the forest, but in a soft bed. Fully naked and facing each other. There's no dirt smell masking Sam's, no rustling leaves covering his moans. He's burning up under Dean's touch, skin glistening with sweat, lips red and swollen. Head haloed by soft locks. 

There's nothing here but the sound of smacking lips, and halted moans. Dean takes his time, dragging his scruff covered cheek over Sam's neck, getting a hitched breath as a reward. He follows with his tongue, sucks a mark onto Sam's pulse. His hands are gripping Sam's arms, maybe leaving bruises. Dean makes his way down, sucking and biting, paying extra attention to the parts that have Sam arching into him, that elicit a needy whimper or an impatient growl.   

The way Sam moves is criminal, the noises he makes, choked off and breathy. Fucking music to Dean's ears. 

Sam pushes a bottle into Dean's hand, and Dean knows what it is, what it means. He locks his gaze with Sam's, asking, pleading for confirmation. Sam turns his head to the side, cheeks darkening, so Dean crawls up, nudges Sam's ear with his nose. 

''Look at me, Sammy.'' 

Sam does. His bangs are all pushed back, and he can't hide his gorgeous eyes like Dean knows he wants to. Dean kisses him, gently. Licking into his mouth with lazy sweeps, sucking on his bottom lip before he pulls back. Sam traces the black lines on Dean's chest with his fingers, leans up and plants a soft kiss over Dean's heart.

''We'll get rid of them.'' He vows, eyes shining with determination. Dean nods, throat closing up with emotions. He feels reckless, like he wants to do stupid things, say stupid words. He kisses his way down Sam's torso so his mouth won't run off, dips his tongue into his belly button. Sam's hands grip the sheets, legs spreading in an alluring fashion. His cock standing full and flushed, and Dean's mouth waters at the sight. 

He licks a stripe from base to top, enjoying the way Sam's hips cant in his direction. Taking the tip into his mouth he sucks gently, and then releases it. Sam whines, lifting his head to look at Dean. He looks wrecked and Dean isn't near done yet. 

Dean enters him as slow as he can, still the sound Sam makes is almost a sob. Sam is too tight even with how much time and lube Dean used to open him up, and he feels incredible. Hot and wet and fucking perfect. They lock eyes as Dean starts to move, Sam's arms coming up to wrap around Dean's neck. This time, Dean doesn't care, doesn't give a shit if Sam decided to throttle him. If this is how he dies, he'll gladly go. He loops his own arms around Sam's waist and hugs him close, Sam hooks his legs around Dean's hips. 

They're entwined so tight there isn't enough space for Dean to thrust, but the way their chests are sliding together slick with sweat is almost as good as the way Sam feels around him. 

Dean comes first, releasing deep into Sam's willing body and Sam whimpers into his mouth. 

''Feels so good, Dean,'' he pants. Bites on Dean's shoulder as he reaches the edge. His come sticky and hot between them. 

Dean doesn't pull out and Sam doesn't loosen his hold. They hold on and kiss till Dean loses the sensation in his arms, and the mess between them gets too uncomfortable to ignore. Sam hisses when they separate, so Dean kisses his shoulder and pets his hair. 

''Shower?'' Sam's voice is raspy, and he can barely keep his eyes open. Fucked out but sated, Dean feels the same but the temptation of another round is too strong to resist.

''Only if you let me wash your hair.'' He jokes.

Sam throws his head back and laughs, eyes closed and throat exposed. Dean leans in and kisses just under Sam's jaw. 

''Okay.'' 

Their shower takes too long but neither of them cares. Dean sleeps with Sam's back pressed to his chest, the sound of his calm breathing a tender lullaby. It's the best sleep Dean's ever had.

*******************

The tracking spell leads them into a shady part of the town, an old building that's on verge of falling down. It stands alone in a empty street, surrounded by tall grass and dead trees. The moonlight paints it pale blue, reflecting off the stained glass. Far off owl sounds make the hair on the back of Dean's neck stands on end, the chill of the air feels unreal. Eerie. 

Dean pulls his gun out and signals for Sam to walk behind him. Sam is fidgeting, rubbing his hands together. His fingers grip Dean's wrist, stopping him. 

''She's watching us.'' He whispers, gesturing with his head to the building. Dean doesn't turn around only nods at Sam, makes to move again. Sam steps faster and stands in his way.

''What the hell, Sam!'' 

''Unbind us.'' Sam says in a rush. Dean narrow his eyes at him.

''Why?'' 

''Dean, in this case she has an advantage over us. If one of us gets hurt so does the other, and I'm defenseless! I can't cast spells!'' 

''Sam, no.'' 

An expression of hurt passes over Sam's face, and Dean's voice soften. ''I'll protect you.'' He promises. 

Sam huffs. ''You don't trust me.''

'' _ Sam _ .'' 

''Dean,'' he clasps Dean's arms, eyes big and earnest ''I'm in this one hundred percent and I need you to trust me.''

Dean stares into Sam's eyes, so many colours whirling around. And maybe he's a little hypnotized because on his next exhale Dean chants the words to release Sam. He doesn't get the time to look up, something heavy connects with his head and he falls to the ground. 

He's a bit dizzy, but he realizes that Sam hit him with something. Before he loses consciousness he hears footsteps coming in their direction and a cheerful ''Hey Sam!'' Said in a feminine voice.  When he drifts off, he think it might be the last time he ever feels anything. He doesn't regret trusting Sam.

Dean comes to the voice of a hushed conversation, from what he's getting, he figures he couldn't have been out for long. He makes a quick survey of his state without opening his eyes, keep the pretence. He'll need the element of surprise when he tries to escape. His head is throbbing but it's not too bad, there's no feeling of stickiness so he didn't bleed, he's unlikely to have gotten a concussion. The ropes around his wrists and ankles are a problem.

'' _ Dean Winchester  _ what the hell were you thinking, Abaddon! He could've killed you. Hell, he could've killed  _ me _ . Almost did!'' 

Sam. 

Dean's heart falls, he didn't imagine what happened. Sam did hit him.

''You've always been a drama queen, Samuel.'' 

Dean fights the urge to growl, and strain to listen as they move away from him. 

''Drama? He had me bound to him!'' Sam sounds angry, Dean imagines the way his brows furrow when he uses that tone. 

''That's another thing, how did you convince him to release you?'' There's genuine curiosity in her question, and Dean wishes to disappear. He doesn't want to hear this answer.

A period of silence pass then something is mumbled. Abaddon's booming laughter following.

''Really?! You slept with him? And it worked! Sam you sly dog!'' She laughs again, and Sam is stammering something but Dean can't hear him.  A stab of pain goes through him, hot and searing and he winces.

''Oh! He's awake.'' Abaddon gushes ''Even though he won't be for long. would you like to say goodbye, Sam?'' At her mocking Dean opens his eyes, grunts when another wave of agony hits him. It's like something lit his skin aflame, heat rushing in his blood. 

''You can't kill him with this spell,'' Sam says, expression pained.

''Why not?'' Abaddon's head is cocked to the side in spoof innocence. 

''Well, you'll die too,'' Sam leans back on a big wooden table. ''He's cast one of those annoying binding spells on you.''

''It's not that kind of a spell. Mine wasn't the same as what he did to you.'' She's annoyed now. Dean is losing his focus, the pain from the curse making it near impossible for him to have coherent thoughts. 

He cranes his neck, following Sam with his eyes. His heart is out of rhythm, chest raising and falling in labored breathing, and he can feel the sweat cascading down his neck. Sam is talking, smiling easily at Abaddon, but she's scowling when she answers. Walking towards Sam almost reluctantly. 

Sam takes her hand in his, and something happens. Then Abaddon screams.

''You fucking bastard!'' 

Dean's vision goes hazy, the last thing he registers is Sam running in his direction. The feeling of Sam's hand pushing his hair back, and the agonizing pain in his muscles.

''Sammy...'' Darkness covers him with a false comfort. Dean can't bring himself to care. At least it's not hurting anymore. 

**************************************

''Dean! Dean, come on. Wake up!'' 

Someone is shaking him, Dean's still sleepy and he doesn't want to wake up yet. He turns his head away from the rude wake up call and mummers something he himself doesn't understand.

''Yes, Dean. It's me. Now open your eyes, please.'' The pleading tone gets to him and the world comes back in a flash. It's Sam.

He sits up and Sam jolts, eyes widening before he throws himself at Dean in a crushing hug.

''Thank God!'' 

Dean winces, Sam is basically shouting in his ear. He's about to wrap his arms around Sam but his head throbs, reminds him of Sam's hit. He places his hands on Sam's chest and pushes him back, Sam pulls away but doesn't let go. Arms still loosely thrown around Dean's neck. 

''You hit me,'' Dean says, he sounds a bit like a child.

'' 'm sorry. I had to play the part so she would trust me.'' Sam goes back to hug him, burying his face into Dean's shoulder.

''What happened?''

Sam huddles closer, straddles Dean where he's sitting on the ground, back to a wooden column. 

''She had to stop the curse with her blood. So I used the same spell you cast on me on her. She released you.'' 

Dean pulls his head back so he can look at Sam, but Sam keeps his eyes cast down. His hands  fisted in the cloth on Dean's shoulders, and he's shaking. When he lifts his head Dean can see the wetness gathering on his lashes. 

''I'm sorry I didn't tell you I knew her and I'm sorry I hit you.'' 

Dean stars into the watery eyes then smiles, cupping Sam's face. ''You could've told me about your plan.'' He chides lightly and Sam shakes his head.

''I know. It's childish and maybe silly but I wanted to see if you'd trust me.'' Sam's eyes overflow, and the tears slide down one after the other. Dean would rather stab himself than not console Sam at that moment. 

''I do trust you, Sammy,'' He nudges Sam's nose with his own, Sam looks at him from under tear thickened lashes. He's so ridiculously beautiful like this, tears tracks and flushed cheeks. Eyes round and expectant. ''C'mere.'' 

Sam falls into him like he's forced by a special kind of gravity, one that pulls him to Dean instead of to the earth. Dean hold him close, inhaling Sam's sweat fragrance and soaking up his warmth. 

''What happened to Abaddon?'' Dean's query is muffled in Sam's hair.  

''I cursed her, she'll die if she uses magic again.'' Sam burrows a bit closer, Dean tightens his hold.

They stay like that, Dean's legs falling asleep; but he's not planning on asking Sam to move. He plants a kiss on Sam's temple and slides his hand up and down Sam's back. Sam sighs into him. Dean thinks maybe he could learn the curse Sam's used, he won't have to kill witches if he does. Maybe some other useful spells, too.

Any reason to delay his departure.

In normal cases this town would already be in his rearview mirror, but there's no way he can leave Sam. He knows he can't, and he doesn't want to. It's good here.

''Sam?'' 

Sam's hold is near bruising now, he shakes his head against Dean's shoulder, burying his nose into the space just bellow Dean's jaw.

''I'm not ready yet.'' He mumbles. 

Dean chuckles at the petulant tone. ''I'm not letting go, Sammy.'' 

Sam makes a disbelieving sound. If he could move closer he probably would, but they're already as close as they can be. 

''Sam, I'm serious we have a problem.'' 

''What?''

''I'm in love with you.'' 

Sam pulls back, eyes watering again as he searches Dean's eyes ''So you're not leaving?''

''If you'll have me.'' 

Sam nods frantically, then slants their mouths together, the kiss keeps getting cut by Sam's joyous laughter but it's totally okay with Dean. 

They should talk about this more, Dean isn't planning to stop hunting, maybe they can work something out. Right now with Sam's lips brushing against his and his bones melting from how true his admission was, Dean doesn't give a flying fuck about details. Everything that matters is in his arms and the rest can wait. 

 

End.    

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is everything good in the world. I'm [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com) come say hi!


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